


It's Kind Of Like This

by emofungus



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Kinda, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 08:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7677469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emofungus/pseuds/emofungus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a story that Barry from Game Grumps told on an episode of Pokemon Art Academy</p><p>McCree gets blackout drunk while on an exchange trip to Japan, and the only person in the entire bar who speaks any English is one Hanzo Shimada.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Kind Of Like This

Immediately, he wished he could take it back.

From the moment he woke up to that pounding sensation in his head and that sour, bile-flavored taste in his mouth, inside a foreign hotel that he only vaguely remembered, McCree regretted the black-out drunkenness that had obviously occurred the night before. His head was resting on a drool-covered pillow on a pullout bed, his joints were sore with either exhaustion or the weight of his sins.

Reluctantly, he reached for his phone, which, having been left uncharged all night was on dangerously low battery. The screen was unbearably bright, boring into the third-eye side of his head like a dentist’s drill: intended to go straight through bone into whatever fleshy softness was left beneath.

 

**(Unknown Number)**

Hello

My name is Hanzo. Do you remember me from the bar last night?

You were incredibly drunk.

Did you make it through the night okay?

 

Jesse breathed a sigh of relief. He remembered vaguely what had gone on: there was sake, and lots of nice businessmen willing to buy it for him.

And he had the impulse control of a coffee-fueled seven-year-old left alone in a toy store that also happened to sell puppies and cocaine on the side. 

There had been one person in that entire bar who spoke English, a surly man about his age who, admittedly begrudgingly, had been his translator for the night and, if he isn’t mistaken, had helped him make it back to his hotel in one piece.

 

**(You)**

hi, Hanzo

im fine, just very hung-over lol

thanks for your help last night

I think I might have died if it weren’t for you

 

He decided it would be better to hold back a little bit with his affections. In his head, he was thanking Hanzo over and over again. I owe you my entire life. You, a stranger from a country to which I am completely foreign, saved my life and my wallet, and I don’t even know your last name. Never in a million years could I repay you for this kindness, this unbelievable display of generosity.

His phone vibrated, shaking him to his core. As if someone opened up his skull, scooped his brains out, and replaced them with a sound system playing exclusively dubstep.

 

**(Unknown Number)**

I would think so

You had a lot to drink

It was rather…

Entertaining.

 

Oh no.

Jesse could only guess what that meant.

Groaning, he attempted to sit up, the contents of his stomach (which, by the end of the night, were probably exclusively alcohol) sloshing around and threatening to trigger his gag reflex. The room was dim, save for slivers of light seeping in from gaps around drawn curtains.

That was when he caught a wiff of himself.

His shirt, simple flannel that had become soaked with sweat, smelled as sour and gross as he felt. He decided it would be a mistake to test his breath.

 

**(You)**

oh no

whatever I did, I can explain

 

Slowly, he swung his legs off the bed, socked feet delicately touching the hotel floor. The place was messy, but no messier than his dorm back home. Obviously, whatever drunken flurry he was in hadn’t made it there soon enough for him to wreck the place before he passed out.

Where were Lena and Gabe? They hadn’t come back with him the night before.

Another skull-shaking buzz, and he decided to put his phone on silent.

 

**(Unknown Number)**

No need, it wasn’t anything particularly embarrassing

As far as I know

I am just glad you made it through the night 

 

**(You)**

was there anyone else with me?

couple o’ americans?

well I guess one is british

westerners

 

**(Unknown Number)**

 

At the beginning of the night, yes

But they left a couple hours in

You were still going strong

 

**(You)**

oh

ok

thanks

for everything I mean

 

**(Unknown number)**

It was no problem

You couldn’t have made it alone

 

**(You)**

yeah, that’s becoming clear

listen, I got a real hankerin for something nice and greasy

lemme buy you breakfast

 

**(Unknown Number)**

It is two in the afternoon

 

**(You)**

Lunch

 

**(Unknown Number)**

That really isn’t necessary

 

**(You)**

yes it is

it’s the very least I could do

 

Jesse waited a good five minutes with no response. He dragged his hands across his face, went to the bathroom to wash up.

He looked as horrible as he felt.

His eyes were practically bloodshot, bags forming underneath. His beard, the edges of which were slowly migrating to cover more area on his face, was wild and unkempt. His wavy hair stuck out at impractical angles, like Andy Warhol and Robert Smith’s less successful, alcoholic lovechild.

He brushed his teeth, splashed water all over his face, and let out a dangerously vile burp.

His phone lit up with a new message.

 

**(Unknown number)**

I suppose it would be rude to turn you down

There is an American-style diner down just down the street from your hotel

 

**(You)**

sounds great, partner

meet u there in twenty?

you won’t soon regret it

 

He had just enough time to hop in the shower, scrubbing away at the ugly smell until it was replaced by cucumber-melon. Pulling on a fresh set of clothes and leaving a note for Gabe and Lena, (Made it back in one piece, went out for food-McCree) he left the hotel room under the mirage of having himself together.

The restaurant was easily identifiable by the borderline-offensive exterior—all silvery and chrome and covered in neon lights, like something trying to pose as a 1950’s truck stop but not quite grasping the full concept of it.

Once he was inside, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to receive an eyeful of perhaps the most attractive man he had ever seen in his life—perfect cheekbones, slick black hair pulled up off his neck, a quirked eyebrow and smug smirk on his face, broad shoulders and toned muscles and a tattoo poking out from his shirt.

There had to be some kind of mistake. He liked to think he would have remembered someone like that.

“Jesse?”

He nearly choked on his words. “I’m guessin’ you’re Hanzo?”

The other man gave a curt nod. “You clean up surprisingly well.”

Jesse McCree was fucked.

\---

“I remember you were the only one in the bar who spoke English,” McCree said in between mouthfuls of hash browns. “’Course, I woulda settled for Spanish too.”

Hanzo reached across the table for the ketchup. “Did you come here for the anime?” McCree simply stared at him, brow furrowed in confusion. 

“What, just because I’m an ignorant American?” Another faint smile drifted across Hanzo’s lips, but didn’t stay for long. Jesse thought that someone so attractive should have a happier disposition towards life, considering he had been blessed with looks that evaded most people, himself being no exception.

“To be honest, yes. It happens all the time, people come here not speaking the slightest bit of Japanese, thinking they can make a life here simply because they’ve seen every episode of Naruto.” Jesse laughed, but stopped when he caught Hanzo’s expression: dead serious.

“I’ll have you know, I took a year of Japanese 101. That’s why I’m here, for school. ‘Course, it turns out that everything I learned in that class is absolutely useless.”

There it was again, the faintest showings of some pleasant expression, but not quite a smile. Like the kind of look that would be on your face were you remembering some distant childhood memory from when your parents were still together and you didn’t have the knowledge to realize that your grandparents were racist. You can’t smile at it the way you used to, because circumstances have changed and you can’t do so in good conscious, but at the time it had brought you pure joy.

That was what Hanzo’s patient timidity and bluntness was like. A good memory that had been left out in the sun just a little too long.

“Yeah,” he said, breaking his own train of thought, “so there was you, and some businessmen, and a couple of old people, and a lot of alcohol, and that’s about all I can recall.”

Hanzo nodded. “Yes, that is accurate. There’s not a lot more to it, except that you are a huge flirt when wasted.” Jesse could feel his face growing progressively redder.

“Oh, god. Who—what—I’m—“

“It is fine, Jesse.” He was looking down at his plate. “I wouldn’t have done anything with you. Not while you were in that state.”

What kind of fresh hell was this.

His hands wandered up towards his face, which was desperate to find something to bury itself in.

“I am so sorry, I must’ve made you so uncomfortable. It was all the liquor, I swear, I would never’ve meant to—“

“Trust me, it is not the worst thing to happen to me, at least when it comes to drunken men.” His eyes were locked on Jesse’s—deep, soulful, coffee bean-brown eyes. Jesse had to swallow to calm the swell in his chest.

“Still, I feel real bad. I mean, I’ll be damned if you ain’t a handsome feller…” He reached up to scratch the back of his neck. Hanzo paused, his eye contact faltered.

“So you aren’t straight?”

Jesse almost laughed. “Darlin’, I don’t know how you got that idea, but I assure you, that ain’t the case.” Hanzo bit his lip, eyes narrowing in concentration. What was he thinking about? Jesse tried to be subtle in the way he fixed his hair and pulled at his beard to appear at least a little more presentable. He wondered if he wasn’t still a little drunk.

Hanzo’s expression suddenly turned unpleasant, as if he just realized something that was detrimental to him.

“This whole situation is ridiculous,” he said, shaking his head.

“I reckon it is.”

“Well, Jesse,” he said, rising, “ I am glad to see you are safe and sober. Thank you for the meal, but I have to leave now.” He gave McCree a small bow before turning to leave, the view from the back just as good as the one from the front, at least in Jesse’s mind.

But Jesse was now alone.

Was it something he had said?

\---

**(You)**

Im just

Sorry mannnnnnnnnnn

did I make yuo uncomfotabe?????

uncomfortable????

Its just like

fuck dude

you know?

 

He was drunk again. No surprise there.

Lena and Gabe had returned home later in the day, Gabe completely unscathed save a lost shoe, Lena having survived a mugging. They were all exhausted, and a couple beers couldn’t have hurt, right?

 

**(Hanzo fuckin Sexy Mannn)**

Have you been drinking again?

You Americans have no impulse control

 

**(You)**

I KNOW

but like

ur a kewl duuuuddddeeeee

anyway

im just sorry I geusz

 

**(Hanzo fuckin Sexy Mannn)**

…

There is no need

Just let it be in the past

 

**(You)**

yeah yeah yeah yea yeh

dun think u wan any cool American palz????

 

**(Hanzo fuckin Sexy Mannn)**

Could you please watch your spelling

English is not my first language

 

**(You)**

I do not think that you would like any cool American friends?

 

**(Hanzo fuckin Sexy Mannn)**

Oh

I did not realize you were cool

 

**(You)**

you ASS

 

**(Hanzo fuckin Sexy Mannn)**

Are you alone?

 

**(You)**

NO

I HABE MA KEWL MERICAAN FRENS WIT ME

 

**(Hanzo fuckin Sexy Mann)**

Sleep on your side tonight

Otherwise you may choke of your own vomit

 

Jesse threw his phone across the room, or at least he intended to. In his drunken stupor, it only made it a couple feet and landed softly on the carpet.

Gabe hiccupped from the other end of the couch. “Is that your… your hot friend?” 

“Yeah. He’s so rude.”

“Maybe he’s just shy,” Gabe offered.

“Or straight,” Lena chirped as she adjusted the antenna on the cheap TV, a shit-faced grin on her face. Jesse dragged his hands down his face.

“Why you g-gotta stomp on ma dreams, Lena?”

Lena shook her head. “I’m just bein’ realistic, love. The hot ones are always straight.” The three let out a collective sigh, each knowing the experience all too well.

“So this guy,” Gabe said, nursing his beer, “was the only one who you could understand, and when you got wasted he just… took you back here?”

“’S about right.”

“Wow,” Lena remarked, faking a swoon. “What a gentleman.”

“I KNOW,” Jesse yelled, exasperatedly slumping deeper into the couch. “And now he’s never gonna talk to me again…” his voice trailed off as he suddenly felt the full force of the entire day, and the one before that, come crashing down on him, and he passed out.

\---

When it happened, he almost couldn’t believe his eyes. He wasn’t even drunk, just soberly wandering around town in one of the uglier hours of the night. Eleven o’ clock, not nearly as glamorous as midnight or three am, not nearly as respectable as nine or even ten pm. 

“Hanzo!”

The name had slipped out of his mouth before he even had a chance to rethink catching his attention. Hanzo had been ignoring his texts ever since his drunken stupor, four days ago.

He turned around at the sound of his name, but grimaced when he saw who was calling him, turning back and choosing to ignore the poor, pining boy.

“Hey, wait!” He was, to his own dismay, now practically chasing him, quickening his pace as he wove through clusters of people. The other man only sped up in turn, ignoring every word he said.

“I’ve been an idiot, okay?”

This remark earned him a glance over the shoulder, a pause in his movement.

“I’m not sure I would go so far as to say that,” Hanzo said, turning things over in his mind. “Clingy, perhaps, and definitely foolish, but not entirely idiotic.”

“Wow,” Jesse said, catching up to him. “Reckon that’s more than I could have hoped for.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you speak like a cowboy?” There was that expression again. Not a smile, but pleasantness.

“Couple times, I ‘spose.” Jesse, on the other hand, was grinning from ear to ear. Hanzo started walking again, but at a pace Jesse could keep up with.

“Why are you seeking me out like this?” That, Jesse knew the answer to.

“’Cuz I feel bad. You dragged my drunken ass home that night, and all you got in return was a shitty dinner and an uncomfortable conversation.” Plus, I think you’re pretty cute. “You saved my life, and I don’t even know your surname.”

“It’s Shimada. And yours is McCree.” Jesse must have looked as confused as he felt, because Hanzo’s face broke into another smirk. “Or don’t you remember telling me that, along with your number and where you were staying?”

Jesse gulped audibly. “Don’t think I do, Shimada-san.”

“Yes, well, that was just because I was insisting that you were too drunk for your own good, and you needed someone to get you home.”

Oh, good. I wasn’t being creepy.

The pair continued that way for a while, discussing everything that had happened to him, what he had done when he was blackout drunk. Hanzo, surprisingly, didn’t seem all that frustrated with him, which was a miracle in of itself. Apparently, Jesse had been hitting on half the people in the bar, from flattered housewives to confused men in suits.

“Some of the things you said, I was not willing to translate,” Hanzo mused.

Jesse sighed. “Yeah, I reckon that’s prob’bly for the better. Listen, I’m real sorry I put you through all of that.”

“You have made that very clear. And I forgive you, although what I said still holds true.”

“Uh,” Jesse paused, wondering what he could be referring to. Had he even been sober when he said it? “And what exactly would that be?”

“I have had worse experiences with drunken men.”

\---

Not much happened after that. They parted ways, seeming to have made amends, Jesse’s sins forgiven by a man who, to his relief, was reasonable, if cold in demeanor. He really should have been satisfied. Hanzo “fuckin Sexy Mannn” Shimada had accepted his apology with the utmost graciousness, despite the annoying nature of the American entity that clung to him like a leech whenever he was drunk.

For a while, he was fine with this, but when it came to Hanzo Shimada, his thoughts never remained unoccupied for long. It was like eating good Chinese food. One moment, you think you’re full, you couldn’t possibly eat any more Chinese, but an hour spent on the couch leaves you hungry again, and you just so happen to have leftover Chinese food in your fridge.

For the next few days, he, Gabe, and Lena wandered around Hanamura, taking in the sights and the food and, occasionally, the alcohol (although in moderation). Jesse, according to Lena, was constantly sulking during this time.

“You just need to forget about this guy,” she recommended one night, as they sat in their hotel room. “Really, you’re being ridiculous. What did you think, this straight guy you met on an exchange trip would be the love of your life?”

“He never said he was straight,” Jesse whined, slightly annoyed that Lena wasn’t taking his side on this.

“Here’s a thought,” Gabe said, wearing his best pissy-face, “have you tried flirting with the guy… while you’re sober?”

Jesse groaned. “Maybe? I don’t know, I told ‘im he was pretty.”

Lena whistled. “What a charmer.”

McCree made a face at her, but said nothing. The last thing he would want to do was come across as clingier that he already was, but he only had five more days until he left for Kyoto, and likely never saw Hanzo again. His whole stay had been like a book, where towards the end everything started to go to shit, and he was afraid that there weren’t enough pages left to right all the wrongs that had been done.

 

**(You)**

hey

so im gonna be leaving town soon

would you be up to getting some coffee tomorrow?

 

**(Hot Guy)**

Before I say yes

Are you currently sober?

 

**(You)**

as a fuckin nun, my friend

 

**(Hot Guy)**

I don’t know what that is

**(You)**

yes I am sober

cmon shimada-san

have I mentioned you saved my life?

 

**(Hot Guy)**

A few times, yes

 

**(You)**

lemme buy u coffee then

 

**(Hot Guy)**

You don’t have to do that

 

**(You)**

yes I do

 

**(Hot Guy)**

You already bought me lunch

 

**(You)**

lunch don’t quite make up for it

you saved

my life

 

**(Hot Guy)**

I realize this

Tomorrow is not a good time

 

**(You)**

wednesday then

 

**(Hot Guy)**

You are not willing to let this go

 

**(You)**

nope

 

**(Hot Guy)**

You could just leave me alone

 

**(You)**

that wouldn’t repay my debt

 

**(Hot Guy)**

I suppose your intentions are

Honorable

 

**(You)**

is that a yes?

 

**(Hot Guy)**

Unfortunately

 

\---

“I didn’t know you would be leaving so soon.”

“Yeah, we only spend a couple weeks in each city.” Jesse shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. Hanzo gazed down at his coffee, furrowed his brow, nibbled on his lip.

“Then I’m sure all your memories of Hanamura will be blurred with drunkenness.”

“Yeah, but that’s no different than all my memories of home,” McCree said, grinning. He watched as Hanzo put on his pleasant face again.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty.”

“Is that not below the legal drinking age in America?” Jesse could feel his face reddening.

“Yeah, but underage drinking is uh, pretty commonplace I guess. It’s a big part of the whole college experience.”

“I think it is to be expected from someone like you.” Jesse deserved that.

“I know I’m a mess. No one knows that better than me.”

“Would you bet on that?” Hanzo raised one eyebrow at him. “Because from what little I know of you, you are a natural disaster waiting to happen.” Jesse must have looked like a fucking cherry tomato.

“I’d be lyin’ if’n I said that weren’t accurate.” He hid his face behind his mug. How drunk had he been when he met Hanzo? Was he even able to walk or speak properly by the end of the night? “Guess I’m lucky I met you, huh?”

“How is that?” Hanzo’s expression turned quizzical, maybe even a little smug. He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from this asshole firsthand. Jesse scratches the back of his neck.

“I dunno, you’ve sure got yourself together, I guess.” 

That was an understatement. Hanzo’s shirt was clean and pressed, his posture rigid, his hair perfectly combed and maintained, his facial hair groomed and shaped like he was a fucking king.

Hanzo shrugged. 

“I just have less of a tendency to get sloppily drunk.”

“I bet you don’t have any tattoos you regret either.” Jesse offered him a smirk that was like a challenge. Obviously, his left sleeve had been a process, a well thought-out design. But it was worth a shot. Maybe he had a tramp stamp.

McCree took great pleasure in watching the other man nearly choke on his latte, then stare at him in shock. But reluctantly, he pulled up his sleeve.

“This is my only tattoo. It is the result of much thought, money, and time. I do not regret it in the slightest.” Now it was Hanzo’s turn to be smug. “What about you?”

Jesse had lost this fight before it had even begun. 

“Well, uh, this may be a little awkward…” Slowly, he began unbuttoning his shirt, then pulling downward on the collar of the white t-shirt underneath, pausing just before the tattoo began. “Now, this was the result of too many tequila shots and some people who ain’t the best influence on me…”

“Just show me the damn tattoo already.”

Jesse sighed, pulling the collar down further so that it fell just beneath the right side of his clavicle. There, on his tawny chest, covered up slightly by patched of swarthy hair, was the poorly inked, faded image of a smoking revolver, with the words “it’s high noon” written underneath in cursive.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn ya, partner.”

Jesse had never seen Hanzo pull a real smile. It was always either a smug smirk, or that pleasant expression that he put on more for politeness than out of happiness. To be honest, it saddened him a little to think that the only way he could get Hanzo to smile was by showing him some embarrassing part of his past, and even that, he wasn’t expecting.

The laugh had blown him out of the water, like a minefield left in the ocean from World War II, that should have been long since deactivated, but wasn’t. There was no way he could have expected it, like sweet thunder and lulling rain in his head, but when it came he couldn’t say he was sorry. He was the one who had gone swimming, after all.

Hanzo must have caught his surprised stare, and leaped to defend himself. Jesse thought he must have been aware of how little he laughed or smiled.

“That thing is absolutely atrocious.” The last traces of a smile still lingered on his lips.

“Oh, I’m well aware of that, thank you kindly.” McCree hurried to cover the tattoo and button his shirt.

“Is that part of your cowboy persona?”

“I’ll have you know it ain’t a persona.”

“So you really grew up on a ranch?”

“I enjoy Western movies,” he rushed to defend himself, “but it ain’t like I don’t got a life outside o’ that.”

“Of course,” Hanzo half-jeered, smiling lazily into his mug. “Although you do seem to embody an American stereotype.”

“Yeah, I can believe that.” Jesse was at least aware enough to know that his farm-boy getup, southern drawl, and sloppy demeanor all meant for the perfect caricature of the American man.

“I think that’s why everyone was buying you drinks at that bar,” Hanzo continued. “Very few people like you are ever seen in Hanamura.”

“Is that ‘sposed to be a compliment?” He figured he would try his luck. Maybe just offer a little playful banter, see where it went. No harm in that.

“Hardly,” Hanzo’s smile was once again a smirk. “Although if that would help that American ego of yours, feel free to take it as such.”

Hanzo had offered his banter right back, whether intentionally or not.

“I’ll take what I can get, ‘specially from you.” He grinned toothily and winked, chuckling just a little after so he didn’t come off as creepy.

“I doubt that will be much.”

Jesse McCree was fucked.

\---

**(Hot Guy)**

You will be leaving soon, correct?

 

**(You)**

yeah we head out tomorrow morning

why?

 

**(Hot Guy)**

I was

In the neighborhood

Would you like to go for a walk?

 

McCree couldn’t believe his eyes. Out of all the drop-dead gorgeous men in Japan…

 

**(You)**

yes

yes absolutely

that sounds nice

 

He nearly fell flat on his face trying to pull some pants on (it was nearly eight in the evening but he had spent the whole day in his hotel room, packing) and rushed in almost a sprint out of his room, down the stairs, and across the lobby.

Hanzo was waiting for him outside, staring at him blankly as he fumbled to scramble out the door.

“Um,” Jesse started, trying to adjust himself, “howdy.”  
“Hello,” Hanzo said, the beginnings of an amused smile fluttering across his as he watched Jesse struggle with the collar of his shirt. He motioned for them to start off down the sidewalk, and for a while they strolled in silence, watching as shops and people and petals passed by with the wind.

“So uh, just in the neighborhood, huh?” Jesse rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yes. It’s a pretty small town.” Hanzo’s eyes remained focused on the ground in front of him.

“Reckon it is. But it’s a nice place. I think I’m gonna be missin’ it when I‘m gone.”

“Why is that?” Hanzo was looking at him now, right into his eyes, as if trying to read him like a pamphlet that wasn’t clear in what message it was trying to get across. If he was going to take a chance, now was the time to do it.

“Well, for one thing, the people.”

“Hm?”

“Yep. Lot’s o’ pretty faces.” He knew he was blushing now, cheeks and ears flushed with color.

“You aren’t what I would call my ‘type’.” Jesse couldn’t say he wasn’t expecting it, but hearing it was like getting shot in the heart. Not with a bullet, but with an arrow, threatening to leave splinters, lodged in his chest with no exit wound.

“I get it. I’m sorry if I—“

“But I’d be lying,” Hanzo said, cutting him off, “if I said you weren’t… attractive.” That much was like he had taken the arrow and twisted it. McCree’s eyes were the ones wandering this time, not to the pavement, but to the sun, which sat low in the sky, casting oranges and reds across the clouds.

“What’re you sayin’, Shimada-san?” It was barely louder than a whisper.

“Take a hint, cowboy.” He was smiling again, endearingly despite his tone, the corners of his eyes crinkling, the corners of his mouth curling. Jesse was suddenly conscious of his thudding pulse.

“I thought I was just some thick American.”

“And a sloppy drunk with no shame. But your charms are more apparent when you are sober.”

Suddenly he was afraid. He had been daydreaming about this exact situation for as long as he knew Hanzo, but just like that, he realized how ill-prepared he was. They hardly knew each other, hardly knew each other’s cultures, hardly knew jack-shit other than the attraction they both felt. Didn’t they need something more than that? It almost felt incomplete.

“Was that a compliment?” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“If it will help your ego.” They made eye contact again, both of their strides slowing considerably, as if they couldn’t think and walk at the same time.

“Besides,” Hanzo continued, “I would not have helped you the way I did if I hadn’t found some aspect of your personality enjoyable.”

“That’s awful kind of you to lend me a hand, just out of the goodness of your heart.”

“There is not much there that isn’t inky black and cold as ice.” McCree chuckled, and Hanzo smiled. He suddenly became aware of the height difference between the two.

“Nah, I think there’s somethin’ in you that just took pity on a fool who can’t hold his alcohol.”

“Perhaps,” Hanzo mused thoughtfully. “Or perhaps I just saw a damsel in distress.”

“What, should I swoon at your chivalry?”

“You have done so plenty enough already.”

“That’s just ‘cause you’re so damn pretty.”

“Hm?”

“As a fuckin’ picture.” Jesse tilted his head back further to look at the stars that were starting to sprinkle the sky, but stopped himself. Instead, he looked at Hanzo, who was looking at him, pink in the cheeks and sparkling in the eyes. Pretty as a fucking picture.

“Flattery will do you no good,” Hanzo said, having regained himself and his usual haughty demeanor.

“It ain’t flattery if it’s true.”

He felt a rough hand against his own, and he urged it to go further. Their fingers brushed, palms clasping, thumbs rubbing against the backs of hands.

Hanzo was the one to break the prolonged silence.

“I thought for sure that you were one of those men who become significantly… more promiscuous when they have been drinking.”

“What, they get gayer the more alcohol’s in ‘em?”

“Yes.”

“It ain’t like that,” McCree said, shaking his head. “My gayness ain’t exclusive to my drunkenness.” This earned him a small laugh, the sound of which he treasured as it wandered through his brain. He was head-over-heels for this guy.

“That is good to hear.”

“Was I comin’ on strong?”

“The night we met?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes,” Hanzo said with a grin, “very strong. You thought you were very charming, but I was embarrassed enough for the both of us.”

“I’m sorry ‘bout that.”

“It is fine. You were amusing more than anything.”

“And what about now?” he asked with a sly grin, and another wink.

“What about it?”

“What am I now? Amusin’? Charmin’?”

“I think you should be quiet now.”

“Why don’t you make me, darlin’?”

There was a tug on his arm, and Hanzo had stopped walking. Jesse paused, looking back at the other man in confusion, as the grip on his hand tightened.

“I don’t think I could if I tried. I could kiss you, and you would continue to ramble into my lips like a buffoon.”

When Jesse would look back on that moment, he would highlight that as the moment that threw him off his guard. After that remark, he wasn’t expecting the gap between them to close as fast as it did, or for Hanzo to pull his hand away, only to find it buried in his hair, the other one resting on his hip. He wasn’t expecting that, being as out of practice as he was, it would come so naturally to him to wrap an arm around the other man and pull him close, or to welcome those lips with the eagerness that he did. He didn’t expect him to taste like tea and fruit, so sharply in contrast with his own cigar-and-whiskey-flavored lips. But he welcomed it all the same.

McCree wouldn’t wish Hanzo to pull away in a million years, but when he did, he was smiling the biggest grin he had seen in his life.

“What do you know,” he said, fingers running through Jesse’s hair. “That did quiet you.”

This time, Jesse was the one doing the kissing, Hanzo offering the kiss back. It was like an arrow to the heart, or a minefield, or good Chinese food, or a childhood memory left out in the sun.

It was like realizing you’re fucked because you fell in love with a stranger, who saved your drunken ass from dying in a foreign country.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Just a little one-shot that I couldn't help but write, thanks to Barry.
> 
> Hit me up on Tumblr
> 
> starsrgay.tumblr.com


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